


eggs, milk, toothpaste

by everythingremainsconnected



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Writing on Skin, amanda has a lot of angry feels, and then some scared feels, graphic descriptions of pararibulitis attacks, some swearing happens, somewhat graphic descriptions of injuries involving blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingremainsconnected/pseuds/everythingremainsconnected
Summary: Soulmates.What a crock of shit.Somewhere, some asshole was going to claim to be some sort of destiny for her. How a total stranger was supposed to be a magical missing piece of Amanda, and she was supposed to be their magical missing piece in return, was a complete fucking mystery. She was whole and complete all on her own, and barely able to legally drink, and all of a sudden that meant she was supposed to find her ‘one true love’ via the most ridiculous messaging system ever invented?Un-fucking-likely.
Relationships: Amanda Brotzman & The Rowdy 3, Amanda Brotzman/Martin, drummerwolf - Relationship
Comments: 55
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to tumblr user occasionallygiveadamn for this wonderful soulmates au prompt <3

Martin stretched and cracked his spine with a grunt. Some days he felt a hundred years old, and judging from the twinge in his ankle when he rolled out of the van, it was going to be one of those days. It took a few squinting minutes to find his glasses (Vogel hid them in the dash compartment) and Martin awkwardly rubbed his eyes behind the glass as the world came into focus at last.

“What’s that, Boss?” 

Martin looked up at the van’s roof to find Vogel with a familiarly curious frown on his face. “What’s what?” 

Vogel pointed. “That’s what on your hand. Did Gripps give you another tattoo?” 

“I think I’d remember that. Probably.” Martin looked down at his hands. The easy grin was slapped off his face by the scratchy black writing on the back of his left hand. 

His stomach dropped and a snarl climbed up his throat. 

-*-*-*- 

Across the country, in a crowded grocery store, Amanda was drawing nervous stares from strangers. “For the love of- how? _How?_ ” She stared at the back of her left hand where a shopping list failed to exist. 

“Huh?” 

“You saw me, right?” She turned to Todd. He flinched under her accusatory stare. 

“What?” 

“Before we left home this morning, when Mom was telling us what we needed to get. I wrote it on my hand so I wouldn’t forget and now it’s gone!” 

Todd went still. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m hungover, not hallucinating.” 

“Right.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing. It’s… actually, come here a sec.” Todd dragged Amanda to the meagre stationery selection, found a pen and uncapped it. “Pretty sure we had to get eggs.” 

“Ok?” 

“Write it on your hand.” 

“Why?” 

Todd rolled his eyes. “Humor me.” 

Amanda sighed deeply and took the pen. She dutifully wrote ‘eggs’ on her hand and held it up for Todd to see. “Are you humored?” 

“Give it a sec.” 

“Give what- _what_ -” Amanda stared at her hand as the writing slowly faded. Within seconds it was completely gone. “What the fuck.” 

“We need to go.” Todd grabbed Amanda’s hand and dragged her along. 

“But- we need groceries-” 

“Mom will understand.” 

*

Turned out Amanda’s mom _did_ understand. It was Amanda who couldn’t quite catch up with the program and she threw herself into her room and slammed the door. 

_Soulmates._

What a crock of shit. 

Somewhere, some asshole was going to claim to be some sort of destiny for her. How a total stranger was supposed to be a magical missing piece of Amanda, and she was supposed to be their magical missing piece in return, was a complete fucking mystery. She was whole and complete all on her own, and barely able to legally drink, and all of a sudden that meant she was supposed to find her ‘one true love’ via the most ridiculous messaging system ever invented? 

Un-fucking-likely. 

Actually, if Amanda had anything to say about it, it was going to be im-fucking-possible. 

She hadn’t let go of the pen Todd gave her at the store. Fuming, trembling with rage, she glared at her left hand and wrote _< fuck u>_

-*-*-*- 

Cross whistled through his teeth. “That ain’t real nice, Boss.” 

“I don’t blame ‘em.” 

“I do!” Gripps said. “How are we s’posed to have a new Rowdy if they’re so rude?” 

Martin ground his teeth. “Boys, this ain’t… I don’t reckon it’s a Rowdy.” 

“Rowdy writin’s purple,” Cross said slowly, “and Rowdy writin’ only works on his arms. That’s black. Jet, inky-” 

“Obsidian-” Gripps offered. 

“Pitch, bad bitch black, _and_ on his hand.” Cross finished. “What’s the black for?” 

Gripps smelled the fear off Martin and pulled him in close for a hug. “If someone’s found a way to try and hurt us through the writing, we’ll find a way to make ‘em pay.” 

“Not like that,” Martin said. “My mama always said black was… was for heart’s love.” 

“What’s that?” Vogel asked, his eyes wide. 

Martin leaned into Gripps and tried to remember. “It’s s’posed to be your heart bond. Purple is for bonded souls but black is for souls and hearts both. I’m… I can’t have this. This ain’t right.” 

“You ain’t got a say,” Gripps said softly. “Universe wants what it wants. Universe says you got a heart bond, you got a heart bond.” 

Cross nodded. “Universe is gonna universe.” 

“The universe is an asshole,” Gripps said. “Could be why our writing never showed on your hands? Maybe your hands are for them. The heart.” 

“Boss, boss!” Vogel ran to Martin and grabbed his hand. “There’s more, look!” 

Martin watched the scribble dance across his left hand. 

_< I want my fucking list back asshole>_

Cross drew close and held out a marker. “You gonna say anything to ‘em?” 

Martin pulled away from Gripps and accepted the marker, but didn’t make any further move to do anything with it. He looked at the pen like it was a loaded gun, except he knew what to do about loaded guns. He didn’t have the first goddamn clue about a heart bond. 

Carefully, he wrote out the list _< eggs, milk, toothpaste>_ and his stomach lurched when the awkward letters vanished from his skin. _< sorry.>_

-*-*-*- 

_Sorry?_ Amanda scowled. At least the stranger had some manners. 

“Amanda?” Todd called through the door. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“What part of ‘fuck off’ was confusing for you?” She shouted. 

“I’ve got ‘brownies’. My roommate’s best recipe.” 

Amanda opened the door and tried to snatch the container. Todd evaded her grabby hands and she glowered. “It’s rude not to share.” 

“I’ll share - but only if I can come in.” 

“Fine.” Amanda turned and sat on her bed, holding her hands out expectantly. 

Todd closed the door behind him and handed over the goods. He made himself comfortable on the messy floor. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“Nope. How good are these, exactly?” 

“One piece kind of good.” Todd smiled as Amanda predictably helped herself to two. “You know, I’m jealous.” 

“Of what?” 

Todd looked away. “You’ve got a soulmate. Do you know how rare that is these days? You’ve got someone who- who has to love you, no matter what.” 

“And I _have_ to love them,” Amanda shot back. “I don’t get a choice. Some mystical destiny or some shit gets to just, like, decide my entire life for me? No fucking way. What about my trip to Europe after college? What if they hate flying and won’t let me go? What if they’re a serial killer?” 

“What if _you’re_ a serial killer?” 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Do you know how much effort it takes to cover up a murder? I don’t have that kind of free time.” 

“Fair.” 

“Seriously Todd, I don’t want this. I’ve got too much I want to do and none of it involves being stupidly in love with a complete stranger because ‘destiny’ said so. I don’t want to be weighed down by anything. Or anyone.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Todd tried. “Your fate wouldn’t connect you to someone who didn’t understand you, and love is supposed to complete-” 

“Shut up.” Amanda stuffed half a brownie in her mouth. “I’m complete as I am. I don’t need someone else - someone I don’t even get to choose myself - to feel ‘complete’.” 

“So what are you going to do?” 

Amanda finished her brownie and sighed. “Nothing.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Amanda repeated. “I don’t want this so I’m not going to encourage it.” 

“Amanda, this isn’t something you can just ignore and hope it’ll go away. It’s your destiny-” 

“No it isn’t! I make my own destiny.” 

Todd wisely kept his mouth shut and ate his brownie. 

-*-*-*- 

The Rowdies weren’t good with time generally but Martin had a special, painful reason to try and keep track. 

Three weeks. 

It had been three weeks since he’d written ‘sorry’ on his hand. Three weeks since he’d watched it vanish - words only disappeared once the other person read them - and he’d waited three weeks for their reply and… nothing. 

At the start of it all, Martin wasn’t sure if he wanted a reply anyway. It certainly seemed like the person on the other end of the connection didn’t want a bar of him and maybe it was for the best; he didn’t know where to start with a heart bond and it terrified him. Unfortunately for Martin, three weeks had been enough time for a quiet ache to settle behind his ribs and an irritable restlessness to seep into his bones. When a good old-fashioned demolition spree didn’t help the itch in his soul, he knew he was in trouble. 

With a beer in one hand and pen in the other, Martin sat by the fire. He stared into the dancing orange flames and wondered, what was his heart bond like? What did they do for fun? What colour were their eyes? 

Would they be a normal, regular human, or something else, like him? 

Surely the universe wouldn’t pair him with a heart that could never accept who he was, but the universe was odd and cruel and twistier than a tornado. 

Martin set his beer down and sighed. 

_< whats your name?>_

-*-*-*- 

Amanda checked her reflection over as she washed her hands in the bar’s bathroom sink. She was a happy sweaty mess and grinned at herself. Looking down to turn off the tap, she saw the words blooming on her hand. She’d hoped they’d gotten the hint - three weeks of ignoring them had to send some kind of message - but apparently not. Some research and frustrating conversations had told Amanda enough that she knew reading the stupid messages was the only way to make them disappear. She stared at the spindly little letters until they vanished. 

Many, many drinks later, Amanda staggered home, did a terrible job of quietly entering her dorm and threw herself into bed with a sigh. Sometime in the last few hours a new message had appeared but she’d deliberately been too drunk to think about looking for one. She squinted at the letters but they blurred, actually the whole room spun and lurched, and she decided to close her eyes tight and worry about it later. 

*

The next morning, Amanda woke with a truly foul hangover. She reached for her phone and saw a message on her hand that had appeared last night; clearly, she’d been too drunk to actually read it. 

_< Im martin.>_

“Fuck off, Martin.” 

Amanda searched for a pen to write just that on her hand. 

*

A week later, in the middle of a lecture, little purple flowers drew themselves across her arm. 

Amanda quickly put on her jacket and packed up her things and rushed out of the auditorium. She gripped her pen so tightly her fingertips went white. 

_< stop it fucking stop it right now>_

The words rippled and faded to be quickly replaced by _< I aint done nothin.>_

Amanda checked her arm and the purple flowers faded as she watched. Little trees grew amongst her freckles and clearly her ‘soulmate’ wasn’t an artist; they looked like the kind drawn by five-year-olds. She circled them angrily, drawing big arrows to the offending attempted trees _< this! stop it!!>_

Her circles and arrows and words faded. A long moment passed. 

New little letters appeared on her hand. 

_< purple aint me.>_

Amanda froze. _< what the fuck r u talking about? ofc it was u>_

_< nope. purple is for soulmates.>_

_< yes? we’re supposed to be ‘soulmates’??>_

_< purple is soulmates. black is heart bonds.>_

_< LEAVE ME ALONE>_

Amanda threw the pen across the hall and went looking for the nearest liquor store. 

-*-*-*- 

Vogel stared at the big angry letters on Martin’s hand. “Sorry, Boss. I didn’t mean to make them mad.” 

“Ain’t your fault, Vogel. They don’t seem real keen on this soulmates thing. I don’t blame ‘em.” 

“How did you draw for them?” Gripps asked. “We didn’t get a thing on our arms but Boss’s heart bond did? Weird.” 

“Spooky,” Cross said. 

Vogel shrugged. “I dunno. I was just thinking about why anyone wouldn’t wanna be Martin’s friend and it made me sad. Like maybe- maybe they’re lonely and don’t know how to make friends. I thought if I was trying to make friends, I’d draw them something happy, and then they’d want to be friends with me. Did I do it wrong?” 

“No way,” Cross said. He hugged Vogel close. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with trying to be nice. Right?” He looked around for support and Gripps and Martin nodded. “Just try not to think about them anymore. Just for a bit.” 

Vogel pouted. “Ok. Sorry, Boss.” 

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” Martin told him. “If they’re your soulmate, they’ll come around.” 

*

Martin, Gripps, and Cross waited til Vogel fell asleep before voicing the worry that laced them all. 

“It’s the same person, right?” Gripps asked quietly. “Gotta be.” 

“Gotta be,” Cross agreed. “They got so mad at those little flowers and thought it was Martin.” 

“What are they, Boss?” 

“I dunno.” Martin sighed. “If they’re your soulmates, and my…” he cleared his throat. “They can’t be regular. Can they?” 

Cross snorted. “Hope not. What would we do with a regular boring human bean?” 

“Why they gotta be so rude?” Gripps asked. “Don’t you feel a pull in your chest for them? A kinda ache, like a bruise, right here?” Gripps pressed a gentle hand against Martin’s chest, right over his racing heart. Martin nodded, his eyes full of pain. “How can it be that they don’t feel that?” 

On the other side of the fire, Vogel squeezed his eyes shut. His soulmate just needed a friend, he was sure of it, just like he was sure that Gripps and Cross and Martin were his best friends in the world. The secret pen in his hand wobbled slowly along his forearm as he thought of them, the mystery soon-to-be-friend, and he slowly spelled out _< Im vogel. pleese b my frend?>_ He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, his heart full of hope. 

*

The first thing Martin did every morning was look at his hand. The message that greeted him punched the air from his lungs. 

_< who is vogel and is he 5?>_

Martin scrambled for a marker. _< hes my brother. its complicated.>_

_< explain y I hav a ‘soulmate’ who seems illiterate>_

_< rich comin from you. missin 3 letters up there.>_

_< fair>_

Martin smiled. _< vogel never went to school. we taught him what we knew. It aint much.>_

_< obvsly. so hes 5?>_

_< no. we dont know how old. maybe 25? its complicated.>_

-*-*-*- 

Amanda leaned back in her bed and looked at her brother, perched on the end. “What kind of fucked up shit is this?” 

“I don’t know. I asked Mom and Grandma about the purple and they’ve never heard of it.” 

“I am _not_ just talking about the colours and you know it. Why is Martin’s brother _another_ soulmate? It isn’t possible to have more than one soulmate, is it? But if it is, does that make _them_ soulmates? Is that incest?” 

“Well, he said it’s complicated.” 

“Why is his brother potentially illiterate, and why doesn’t he know how old his own brother is?” More letters appeared on her hand. “Oh, apparently Vogel is adopted. Well, that clears it all up then,” she said with withering sarcasm. 

“What are you writing back?” 

“I’m going to tell him how fucking weird that sounds.” 

-*-*-*- 

Martin managed a laugh. _< I know. believe me. theres 4 of us. brothers, but adopted, kinda.>_

_< r u all purple soulmates?>_

_< yes.>_

_< what does that mean?>_

Martin traced his fingers over the words as they slowly, slowly crept across his skin, written like his heart bond was afraid. He remembered the shock when he and Gripps and Cross were figuring out their connection and what it meant. Writing for each other only worked when they thought of who they wanted to write to, and Cross and Gripps’ words had never worked on Martin’s hands. They’d always assumed it was because of the weird universe shit that had put them in secret government custody for years, but it was starting to look like Gripps was right; his hands were for his heart’s words. 

_<???>_

It seemed like his heart bond was impatient. Martin tried his best. _< purple is people that fit you. fit your soul. family but more than.>_

_< not lovers?>_

_< not always.>_

_< I dont understand how theres more thn 1>_

_< me neither. it just is.>_

_< I dont want any of this. nothing personal>_

Martin tried to calm his racing panic. _< Im scared too.>_

_< Im NOT scared>_

_< youre a liar.>_

_< Im too busy for this shit. I hav class in 1 hr>_

Martin just about fell over. _< class?>_

_< college. last year. need decent grades. too busy for ‘destiny’>_

An awful new kind of hurt filled Martin’s chest. They must be normal, to be going to college long enough to almost graduate. The last thing they needed was whatever the hell he was, stomping up in their life and wrecking everything. _< good luck with class.>_ He sat back against the van’s tyre and fought the compulsion to sink into his misery. 

_< thnks. Im amanda>_

Once again Martin traced the letters, his finger following their shape long after they’d faded. His heart bond’s name was Amanda. He smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple weeks later, Amanda was sitting at the dining table with Todd, minding her own business, when he dropped his spoon into his cereal with a clatter. 

“Do you mind? I’ve got a headache,” Amanda hissed. 

“What’s wrong with your lip?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your lip, what happened?” 

Amanda ran a finger over her mouth. It came away clean. “What are you talking about?” 

“Here.” Todd pulled out his phone and turned on the selfie camera. He held it up for Amanda to see herself and her eyes went wide. 

There was a bloody slice in her bottom lip. Blood pooled in the cut but didn’t dribble down her chin, and when she touched her lip she found it whole and unhurt. She bit her lip where it appeared wounded and felt nothing out of the ordinary - but the movement made Todd wince. 

“Did you bite your lip or something?” Todd asked. 

“No. My lip is fine.” Amanda poked it more to prove it while examining her reflection. The more she thought about it, the more something else wasn’t fine. She’d been doing her best to ignore the weird fluttering in her chest since the messages started, but now the fluttering was chased by shadows. 

Amanda abandoned her brother and ran for her room, lunged for a pen and scribbled faster than she’d ever managed before. _< r u ok?? somethings not right?>_ She paced and stared at her hand, a sickly worry curling in her gut. Her words stayed there, mocking her, taking an eternity to fade. She stopped her pacing, hardly daring to breathe as she waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

_< we’re fine. little scrap never hurt nobody.>_

_< never hurt? y is my lip cut n bleeding??>_

_< what?>_

Amanda looked in the mirror. Her lip was scabbing over, the blood drying to a dull red. Her worry turned to cold fury. _< who split ur lip?>_

_< how do you know that?>_

_< coz it looks like ive been punched. it has to b u. ur lip>_ Amanda touched the cut again, wondering if it hurt as bad as it looked. 

_< thats impossible.>_

_< I know but. how else could this happen?>_

_< Im so sorry. If Id known you’d be hurt Idve been more careful.>_

Amanda smiled at the chicken scratch handwriting across her skin. _< Its ok. doesnt hurt. just looks bad>_

_< Im sorry. I had no idea the heart bond could do this.>_

_< I dont think its meant to. Im gonna google it>_

_< whats google?>_

Amanda laughed. _< seriously?>_

_< seriously.>_

_< do u live under a rock?>_

There was a long pause before Martin wrote back. _< no. just a secret government lab.>_

The cold fury was back before Amanda could blink and it froze her in place. 

_< sorry. I know its messed up. I wont write you no more.>_

_< NO>_

_< no?>_

Amanda bit her lip, precisely where the painless cut was. If she bit hard enough, would Martin feel it? _< I just meant dont stop writing ok?>_

_< ok.>_

_< is vogel ok? and the others?>_ Amanda’s writing faded as a purple message scrawled across her arm. 

_< weer a-ok!>_ Vogel added smiley faces and flowers and stars. 

Amanda couldn’t help the grin across her face. She carefully wrote on her arm, _< thats good>_ and was immediately rewarded with more and more little drawings from Vogel. They covered her arm. Of course they vanished once she saw them but were promptly replaced in a cascading swirl of happiness. 

Martin’s small letters appeared on her hand again. _< were all ok. you dont have any other marks? just my lip?>_

Amanda blushed. _Just his lip_. She quickly inspected the rest of her face before ripping off her clothes to check for any further evidence of someone else’s fight. _< nothing else. how bad was it?>_

_< nothin we cant handle.>_

_< what was the fight for?>_

_< the lab rats wanted us back. we aint goin back.>_

_< where r u now?>_

_< safe. alive. together.>_

-*-*-*- 

Martin watched as Amanda read his message and it faded from his hand. He was off-kilter and wondered how much of that she could feel. The fight was short and brutal and they’d escaped easily but the fact that they’d been found at all left a sour taste in his mouth. The threat of capture loomed and he drove with half an eye on the road and barely a finger on the wheel, trusting that the van knew where they were going more than he did. He wished Amanda was there next to him, so he could know for sure - know for always - that she was ok. 

Weeks ago, after those first angry messages, Martin had all but resigned himself to loneliness, pretty damn sure that his heart bond would never want to meet him. He’d assumed the rejection was the cause of the ache in his chest. The more messages Amanda sent him, the clearer her resistance became, but somehow the ache turned warm, and its presence made him smile. To think of her made him happy. Just a few days ago he’d thought about what it might be like to see her but he didn’t want to upset the delicate peace they seemed to be existing in. 

He sure as shit wasn’t about to bring Blackwing to her door. 

Staring at the long straight road ahead, Martin pressed a hand to his chest. He knew in his bones that he was heading away from her and the distance pulled at him like a chain. Away from her was safest. He hoped it didn’t hurt her the way it hurt him. 

*

Cross stared at Martin over that night’s campfire. “What do you mean, she got a split lip?” 

“That is not one jot possible,” Cross said. 

“I know.” Martin pressed against the rapidly healing cut on his mouth. “But she knew somethin’ was up and she said her lip was split open like she’d been hit.” 

“But _you_ got hit,” Vogel said, confusion creased across his face like a rumpled sheet. “I don’t get a black eye when you get a black eye. Why would Amanda get a sore lip when you did?” 

Martin shrugged. “She said it didn’t hurt, just looked awful.” 

“How are you doin’ that?” Cross asked. “Is it coz maybe she’s somethin’ whackadoodle wonky?” 

“Maybe.” Martin had a sudden thought and pulled the ever-present pen from his pocket. _< did your lip bleed?>_

A minute later she replied: _< sorta? it didnt drip down my chin like if it was real>_

_< lucky. I got blood in my beard. pain in the ass to clean.>_

_< u hav a beard??>_

Martin went still. Of course she didn’t actually know what he looked like, and he realised with a sharp pain that she probably never would. “She said the blood didn’t go down her chin.” 

“So she only saw the hurt? That’s lucky.” Gripps tried to smile. 

“Somethin’ like that.” Martin stared at the back of his hand, frozen in place. 

Gripps leaned over to steal the pen and quickly rolled up his jacket sleeve. He moved to sit closer to the fire and began to sketch away at his skin, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“What’re you doin?” Martin asked. 

“If she’s your heart bond and Vogel’s soulmate, stands to reason she’s ours too. Stands to reason she don’t know the shape of that handsome mug, so, stands to reason I gotta help us all out.” Gripps grinned as the little portrait took shape. He concentrated hard on the mysterious Amanda, growing more confident by the second that she was connected to them all in some way. He finished the cartoonish picture and waited. The others gathered around him just in time to see the lines sink back into his skin. “I knew it!” 

_< vogel???>_

Gripps laughed. _< not quite! Im gripps! I draw better faces than vogel!>_

_< man this is tooooo weird>_

_< its weird 4 us 2>_ Gripps looked at his brothers. “Right?” They all nodded emphatically. 

_< was that martin?>_

_< sure was! did my best but firelight aint great!>_

_< dont tell him i said this but can u draw him again? please?>_

Gripps immediately covered his arm but it was too late. He saw the pink across Martin’s ears and grinned. “If she asks, I ain’t tell you shit. Now turn your head that way so I can try and get your chin right.” 

-*-*-*- 

Amanda watched the drawing take shape across her arm and smiled. She snapped a picture on her phone before it faded. The little cartoon man had a beard, and glasses, and some sort of sharkfin hairstyle and a cheeky little grin. The fluttering in her chest was soft and warm, like feathers in a heavy blanket. 

A second later, more purple words wrote themselves along her arm. 

_< Im cross! can you read this? are we soulmates too??>_

“This is too fucking weird,” Amanda whispered to herself. _< seems like. nice to meet u I guess>_

_< you guess? good thing i KNOW>_ Cross wasn’t quite the artist that the other one, Gripps, obviously was, but he drew a grinning little cartoon with a big circle around one eye. _< this is my face! so youll know which ones me!>_

Amanda’s heart skipped a beat. The implication that someday she would meet them and need to know which was which put a bucket of cold water down her spine. She pulled her sweater sleeve down and gripped the fabric in her fist and bit her lip in the exact spot that had been split on a stranger’s face. 

-*-*-*- 

Vogel stared at his attempt at a self-portrait on his arm. He was dangerously close to tears. “Why isn’t she reading, Boss? Doesn’t she like mine?” 

“Maybe she fell asleep,” Martin said, even as his heart broke for his brother. A shiver that tasted a lot like fear ran through his head, there and gone in an instant. With a flash of insight, he stole the pen from Gripps and wrote awkwardly on the back of his right hand. _< vogel wants to show you his picture. please. he’s real sad to miss out.>_ His words took a minute to fade and Martin nodded to himself. 

“She’s reading! Boss, Boss she’s reading it! She saw me!” Vogel leapt up and whooped his way around the fire, a joyous one-man celebration parade. Cross and Gripps cheered him on and their laughter filled the air like smoke. 

“She say anythin’ back?” Martin asked. 

Vogel came to a skidding halt and put his arm dangerously close to the flames to read. “She says I got a nice smile!” 

Martin grinned. _< thanks. you made his day.>_ The words faded and she didn’t reply. He knew when to leave well enough alone and just hoped she could feel the joy from him and his brothers that she was talking to them. That flash of fear and panic had to have been from her and with whatever weird they had that made Blackwing want them, it wasn’t quite a stretch to imagine she’d be part of them, too. 

*

It was a couple of quiet weeks before Amanda sent Martin another message. 

_< im graduating today. pls no messages til tonight?>_

_< sure. aint like I write you much anyway.>_

_< whatever. can u tell the boys? dont wanna hurt feelings>_

_< sure.>_

_< thanks. wanna have my arms out without awks q’s yknow?>_

_< sure.>_ Martin sighed deeply. He wished he could be there, never mind that he had no damn clue about what college graduation looked like or how the hell the Rowdies would fit in. He really wished he had the guts to tell her that he wanted to be there for her. To celebrate that achievement with her. _< have fun today.>_

_< not likely. my folks r probs gonna cry n shit>_

_< is it sad to graduate?>_

_< ha no. just emotional I guess. pls no split lip today either!!>_

Martin ran his tongue over the long-healed cut and smiled. _< you never told me what you found out about that.>_

_< oh. yeah a whole lotta NUTHIN. useless google>_

_< damn. was hopin youd have somethin. not a lot of places to look out here.>_

_< I gotta get ready. grad means fancy hair and makeup ugh>_

_< bet youre gonna clean up a treat.>_ Martin scribbled the words before he could lose his nerve. 

_< wouldnt u like to know haha>_

Martin’s eyes went wide. The warmth in his chest threatened to burn through his skin. 

-*-*-*- 

The pen fell from Amanda’s hand and she groaned. “What the fuck, Brotzman.” She couldn’t deny the way his simple sentence had made her heart race but that was no excuse to go leading the poor guy on. She’d talked her way into a suspiciously high paying summer job to save the last of the money she’d need to backpacking around Europe and even though the idea of leaving the country was starting to make her miserable instead of excited, she wasn’t about to have her mind changed for her. 

Besides, she reasoned that they’d still be able to write each other soulmate messages no matter where they were. 

Unfortunately, places that one can’t write messages from happen to include being unconscious. 

-*-*-*- 

Deep uneasiness swamped Martin for brief seconds, long enough to bring the van to a screeching halt on the side of a forgotten highway. He jumped out of his seat and stalked the length of the van, hunting for a scent on the air that would tell him where trouble was blowing from. Fear spiked through him without warning and his brothers erupted, shouting for the coward attacker to come out and face them. Martin reached for his baseball bat and froze. 

The skin on his hands bubbled and blistered, melting before his very eyes. 

It didn’t hurt. 

“Amanda!” Martin shouted, looking for her, furious and helpless. He heard her screams in his soul and he howled as she burned. 

Martin blinked. 

The world went deadly quiet. 

His hands were whole and unmarked. 

“Boss?” Gripps asked quietly. “Is she ok?” 

“Did you feel it?” Martin demanded. He looked around them desperately, as if he could find her in the prairies. His brothers nodded slowly. 

“Like a nightmare,” Cross said. He hugged Vogel as a shudder went through them all. 

“Is she…” Vogel couldn’t finish his sentence but he didn’t need to. 

Martin shook his head before he could think. “I feel her still. Here.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Somethin’ ain’t right.” 

“Your hands were all freaky,” Gripps told him, “like someone put the acid on you again.” 

Cross snarled, his eyes dark and furious. “Somebody hurt her?” As one, the Rowdies scrambled for pens and markers. 

*

Every word Martin had written in the last twenty-four hours remained on his hands. Driven by growing panic he’d covered his palms, fingertips, and the insides of his fingers, on both hands. Cross, Gripps and Vogel had tried too, but with no luck; their words were just as stuck as Martin’s. 

“I think we should try and find her,” Cross said, breaking the uncommon silence amongst them. 

Gripps saw the doubt settle on Martin’s shoulders and said, “She never told us she wanted to be found. It ain’t right to do somethin’ she don’t want.” 

“But she’s hurt!” Vogel looked around the faces of his brothers. “We all felt it. Something’s really wrong with her. Boss, what if _they_ found her?” 

“No.” Martin smoked his cigarette with a vengeance. “If it was them, we’d know. This was somethin’ else.” 

“We gotta help her,” Cross said. “It ain’t right she’s alone. I feel it.” He tapped his chest and knew his brothers felt it too; the tight little ball of fear where Amanda’s warmth had been until yesterday. 

“Gripps is right.” Martin nodded at him. “She don’t want us to find her or she woulda said we could. She woulda told us where to look. We can’t do that if she don’t want it. It ain’t right.” 

“But-” 

“No. She’s alive, she’s got parents, and it ain’t _them_. If this is somethin’ like us - if _she’s_ like us - then they’re gonna come lookin’ for her.” Martin closed his eyes as the bitter frustration swept over him. “The best we can do for her is keep them as far away as possible.” 

“Boss,” Cross said softly. “I don’t wanna leave her behind.” 

Martin threw his glasses to the ground and scrubbed his face. “It ain’t leavin’ her. Amanda… she has to choose it for herself. Keepin’ her safe is the best thing we can do.” 

Hours later, as he tried to fall asleep, Martin couldn’t fight the fear that she’d never choose him. 

-*-*-*- 

The light was all wrong. Amanda was at a party, dancing with her friends; it should have been dark and dingy, not the cold brightness that pushed at her closed eyes. It was too quiet, and she was lying down. She must have passed out and groaned pitifully. 

“Amanda!” 

She flinched and squinted one eye open. “Todd?” She coughed. “What’re you doing here?” 

Todd leaned over her and looked haggard as hell. “Thank god, Amanda, you’re ok.” 

“Did I have to get my stomach pumped again?” 

Todd laughed weakly. “No. What do you remember?” 

“Dancing?” Amanda’s mouth was dry and sore. “I was at a house party. It was fun, but… I dunno, something about my hands…” She closed her eyes and struggled through the heavy fog in her head. “I dreamed I was on fire. God, it hurt so bad, Todd, it was the worst thing.” She opened her eyes in time to see the haunted look on his face. “What? What happened? Was I- was I drugged?” 

“No.” Todd kept his eyes down. “You’re in hospital, Amanda. The doctors said it was an episode. A pararibulitis episode.” 

“No. No way. No freaking way!” Amanda shouted, her hands curling into fists. “Maybe it was another soulmate thing. Ever think of that? What if it was just Martin’s- fuck!” The thought of him being hurt as bad as she’d dreamed it made her want to puke. She brought her hands up to her face and found his words covering every possible inch of her skin. 

_< whats wrong? are you ok? please just read this. please. Amanda I felt it, someone hurt you. who? what happened? my hands burned like yours must have. like the time with the cut lip. I dont even know if you can read this. what happens when the only place I can write you might be ruined? please wake up. the boys are writing too. I heard your screams in my head. all you gotta do is tell me who it is. who did this. we’ll make sure they never hurt you again. I promise. Im sorry I wasnt there. Im sorry youre hurtin. please wake up. wake up.>_

Amanda blinked away tears and his words blurred and vanished. She checked her arms and found purple writing, drawings, pleas from the others to read their words, to write back, to please be ok. “Give me a pen.” 

“Is that a good idea? Any stimulation could trigger another-” 

“Get me a fucking pen!” 

Todd meekly did as he was asked. 

“Get out.” 

“Amanda-” 

“ _Get. Out_.” Amanda scowled until he skulked out of her room. She wiped tears from her eyes and wrote on her hand. _< the drs think Im sick>_

_< what kind of doctors?>_

_< dunno. I just woke up>_

_< stay calm. whats the room look like?>_

_< hospital I guess? my brothers here. theres a window>_ Amanda recognised the flood of phantom relief running through her as his. _< doesnt feel like secret government>_

_< good. what happened to you?>_

_< sick. I might have this thing that my body imagines pain that feels real>_ Amanda couldn’t stop a few tears from dripping down her face. _< no cure. barely treatment. no hope>_

_< they sure you got this thing?>_

The more Amanda thought about it, the more she remembered the way her hands burned like they were on fire. The certainty sunk into her veins like poison. _< pretty darn>_

_< Im sorry.>_

_< no Im the one thats sorry. u had to feel the same thing I did n thats not fair>_

_< not your fault.>_

_< u dont get it. ur gonna feel every attack I ever have!! Im so so sorry>_

_< I been through worse. feelin how scared you were hurt worse.>_

_< this isnt FAIR u shouldnt have to feel ANY OF IT>_

_< it aint like that. my hands didnt hurt but my heart did. my soul did. I saw my hands burn up but it werent the fire that hurt.>_

_< IT ISNT FAIR NONE OF THIS IS FAIR AND I HATE IT>_ Angry tears forced their way out of Amanda’s eyes and she dug her nails into her palm. 

_< I know. so much about all of this aint fair. dont you worry about causing me trouble. I mean it. long as you tell me youre alright thats enough for me.>_

Amanda shook her head. How could any normal person be fine with a fucked up physical link to another person who was going to spend their lives enduring impossible pain? How could anyone love someone who lived their life one breath away from a deadly hallucination? 

That depressing realisation was the final nail in the coffin. Amanda curled up on her side and cried until she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

After that, the heart bond changed. Martin felt it like a sharp wind through his ribcage and unshakable shadows of nightmares he couldn’t remember. It hurt in a whole new symphony, worse than when he thought Amanda would never love him. He hurt for the life she was mourning and for the cage he knew she was trapped in. Her dreams started to leak into his head, along with her attacks, and it was all kinds of messed up that his heart screamed to be near her but being closer would only bring danger. 

The stink of Blackwing laced the air more than it didn’t and after that day it chased them. Martin knew better than to wait around and find out what it meant. He raced the phantom wind, daring it to face them, luring it to a time and place of his choosing, and as far away from Amanda as he could think of. This time he knew the universe was on his side and that knowledge was the only thing that kept him from turning and running for Amanda with every bit of strength he had. 

It didn’t stop Martin and the others thinking about her almost constantly. 

*

_< hey>_

Martin grinned. Amanda hadn’t had a seizure in almost two days, the longest gap in pain in the months since she got sick. _< hey. good day?>_

_< no attacks in 39 hours. but u no that huh>_

_< yeah. how you feelin?>_

_< bored>_

_< whats that like?>_

_< boring. duh. do u hav a cell?>_

_< what?>_

_< cell phone?>_

Embarrassment coloured Martin’s ears and he was glad she couldn’t see him. _< no.>_ A little sad cartoon face appeared on Martin’s hand and he laughed. _< sorry. not much use for one out here.>_

_< where?>_

_< someplace far.>_ Another sad face cartoon scribbled across his hand and Martin rubbed his thumb across the picture as it faded. He couldn’t tell if the wistful sigh was his or hers. _< its safer this way. bad folks still lookin for us.>_

_< its just not fair>_

_< I know. lotta my life aint been fair up to now. cant say Im surprised.>_

_< ok I was talking about cell phones mr deep n meaningful>_

_< oh. sorry.>_

_< it feels weird to not no what u look like>_

Spindly vines of warmth spread through Martin’s chest. _< gripps spends more time doodlin my face than he lets on.>_

_< not just that ha>_

_< then what?>_

_< I dunno. little things I guess?>_

_< my eyes are blue.>_

_< how did u no I was gonna ask that>_

_< lucky guess.>_

_< suuuuure. ever feel like this soulmates gig is weirder than its meant to b?>_

Martin laughed and hoped she could feel it. _< i dunno how to tell you this but there aint much normal in my life at all.>_

_< lucky for ur sick hallucinating soulmate>_

_< Im the lucky one.>_

_< how tall r u?>_

_< taller than vogel and gripps. cross is tallest.>_

_< that explains nothing u nerd. evr heard of feet + inches??>_

_< gimme a minute.>_

Thirteen minutes later, Martin lay down next to a line of beer cans arranged end-to-end. He looked at Gripps expectantly. 

“You are fifteen point one eight beer cans tall.” 

“My turn, my turn!” Vogel threw himself to the ground and waited for Gripps to adjust the can calculation. 

Martin sat up and scrawled the possibly vital information on his hand. A ghostly smile brushed over his face. 

_< I think thats like 6’?>_

Martin frowned. _< whats 6’ ?>_

_< u. normal ppl use feet + inches to measure height. the ’ means feet>_

_< gotcha.>_ Martin hesitated, unwilling to risk the air of fun by pushing too hard. His words faded and he waited, holding his breath. 

_< oh my god Im like 13 beer cans?? google says 13.26 thats so ridiculous>_

“Thirteen point two six.” Martin read the message aloud. 

There was a brief pause before the Rowdies leapt into action to adjust the beer cans. Gripps went so far as to lightly crush a can shorter to make up the point two six fraction. They stood around the line of cans for a second, absorbing just how short it was. Vogel plopped himself down and ogled the difference. 

“I’m bigger than Amanda!” Vogel declared, awed. 

Martin laughed as he sat near the line of cans that equalled Amanda’s tiny stature. _< wow that aint much.>_

_< thaaaaaanks>_ Amanda drew a little face with its eyes rolling all the way up. _< Im so tired but I dont wanna sleeeeeeep>_

_< I thought ya doc said rest was good?>_

_< I dont wanna break the attack free streak>_

_< fair.>_

_< hey>_

_< you said that already.>_

_< tell me a story?>_

Martin frowned. _< been a while since I read vogel a bedtime story.>_

_< not a bedtime story. UR story. pls?>_ A little smiley face managed to look hopeful. 

_< aint much to tell.>_

_< uuuuh excuse u but u tell me ur hidin from some secret lab n dont hav cell phones n dont no what the internet is?? theres some kinda story there! pretty pleeeeease>_

He tried to imagine how adorable Amanda might look if she was there to plead with him. Would she pretend to pout, maybe bat her lashes at him like something out of an old movie? _< one condition.>_

_< my eyes r brown>_

Of course she knew. With a wide smile, Martin got started. He wrote message after message, waiting for Amanda to read and the words to vanish before adding more, trying to unravel the weird and confusing tale. He told her about running away from the group home in his teens, finding Gripps and Cross on the road, then Vogel a while later. Their time in Blackwing got a mention in a redacted sort of way, and even though he glossed over the gruesome details, something in his gut let Martin know that Amanda was a little sceptical. 

It wasn’t until Amanda asked the crucial question _< why did sum shady gov thing want u?>_ that Martin hesitated. 

_< we can do this thing. aint real normal but we think its why we’re soulmates. hard to explain.>_

Amanda’s message came back slowly. _< tryyyyy>_

_< I aint no crunchy woodstock witch. but we can eat a kinda energy from folks.>_

_< uuuh Im too tired n not stoned enough fo this>_

_< told you. hard to explain.>_

_< eyes hurt so sleepy>_

_< sweet dreams.>_

_< write me again?>_

_< always.>_ Martin smiled softly as the letters took long moments to fade. He swore the sleepiness leaked through to him and he yawned and lay down beside the thirteen point two six beer cans. Folding one arm under his head as he settled on his back, Martin didn’t spare a glance for the velvet night sky above. Instead he turned to the most tangible evidence he had of Amanda’s physical presence in the world and let loose the aching longing in his heart. 

-*-*-*- 

The last thing Amanda remembered was arranging a couple of mini measuring tapes in a long line down her bed, extending a total of six feet, starting below her feet and ending where a person might conceivably rest their head on the pillow beside her. She slid easily into sleep with a hand outstretched, ready for her soulmate to reach out and hold. 

*

Halfway through the dream Amanda recognised it for what it was, but it was too perfect for her to care; sunlight, bright and soft, filled her bedroom, and the air was warm, and she was laughing so hard her face was starting to hurt. Laughing just as hard was Martin, lying beside her, his glasses awkwardly mushed against his face and his hand tantalizingly close to hers. 

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” Amanda asked, daring to enter his personal space to flick her finger against the crooked arm of the glasses. 

“Worth it.” Martin smiled and his eyes glowed blue. 

Amanda fixed him with a suspicious glare. “Wait a second. If even _half_ of your story is true-” 

“You callin’ me a liar?” 

“What? No?” 

“It’s all true. Just coz I can’t make no sense of some of it, don’t make it any less real.” 

“I can’t believe I never thought to ask if you had an accent.” 

“Watchu talkin’ ‘bout.” Martin gave a sly grin. 

Amanda laughed and saw the matching joy in Martin’s eyes. “How do you have prescription glasses?” 

“Universe usually makes sure I can see.” 

“The universe sends you to an optometrist? I would pay to see that.” 

“A what? No, I just find a pair when I need ‘em.” 

“But how?” 

Martin shrugged. “Universe sends us where it needs us. Least it can do is make sure I can see whatever it is I’m bein’ aimed at.” 

Amanda looked down, ostensibly studying the stitching on his vest. “Is the universe keeping you away from me?” 

“No,” Martin said quickly. “We’ve got this… heart bond. Means the universe holds us together.” 

“I used to hate that, yknow?” 

“Oh, I know.” Martin dared a smile. 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I don’t like being told what to do. By anyone.” 

“No arguments here.” 

“How do you, like, deal with it?” She read the question in his eyes and took a deep breath. “The universe just yanks your chain and you gotta hop, right? Doesn’t that bother you?” 

“Sometimes.” 

Amanda wanted to burn away the darkness that shadowed him. “Why did the universe want you and the boys in cages?” 

Martin buried his snarl. “Sometimes, things go wrong. We’re part of tryin’ to fix it. Folks that don’t understand it just get in the way.” 

“Is that who’s chasing you?” 

“That’s who we’re keepin’ away from you. That’s why we’re stayin’ away, your connection to me - to all of us - could put you on their radar. I won’t let that happen.” 

“I have to tell you something.” 

“Anythin’.” 

“When you asked me what I found about the purple soulmate marks, and the, like, extra stuff we might have, and I said I didn’t find anything? Wasn’t quite true.” Amanda battled the shame in her gut as she tried to read Martin and hoped she was understanding him right. “I found fairytales. Stories about magic and shapeshifters and witches. Nothing in any of the regular soulmate stuff.” 

“Fairytales? Is it your turn to tell me a story?” 

Amanda matched the grin he gave her. “You’re not mad I lied?” 

“Not so much. You’re workin’ through this weird shit from the start. I got a bit of a headstart on the whole thing. Besides, I know it wasn’t to hurt me.” 

Amanda _hmmed_ to herself. “Good. Coz it wasn’t. It just… this is all so freakin’ weird and it’s like, _super_ weird that there’s no actual information about this. Soulmates have been around for ages - forever - but multiple soulmates? Different colours?” Amanda scoffed. 

“What are these fairytales then? Any monsters who hunt little girls?” 

“I am _not_ that little.” 

“Darlin’, I’ve seen baby goats bigger’n you.” 

Amanda laughed again and her cheeks went pink. “What I found was more like, cautionary tales about not crossing the big bad witch with a bunch of soulmates or she’ll sic them on you.” 

“That don’t help much.” 

“I’ll say. I’m not a witch. I’m just a person. Just a sick person.” 

“You’re more’n you think.” Martin carefully reached out to touch his fingers to the soft, warm skin of her chin and tipped her face upward. “To be connected like this, to me? To the boys?” He traced the line of jaw and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There’s gotta be somethin’ more. And even if there weren’t, you’d still be more to me.” 

“Promise?” 

“Always.” 

Amanda smiled and reached for Martin’s hand. His skin was warm beneath her touch and she took her time examining every freckle and whorl. It was easier to study his hands than meet his gaze which, even in the haze of a dream, was almost too much; it weighed on the last of her stubbornness about the whole destiny thing and nudged other frightening things too close to her consciousness to bear thinking about. 

“Martin?” 

“Mm?” 

“How are we here?” 

Martin snorted a small laugh. “Don’t you go lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth.” He laughed again at her puzzlement. “I ain’t in the habit of tellin’ the universe to take away what makes me happy. If you show up in the back of the Oh No Mobile somehow then Imma thank my lucky stars and enjoy every second I live.” 

“The what mobile?” 

“The Oh No Mobile. Our van. Our home. That’s where we are. I fell asleep outside but dreams make their own rules.” 

“Uh, no? We’re in my bedroom. In my _bed_.” Amanda saw the barest hint of pink along Martin’s ears and very much wanted to reach out and touch. 

“That’s dreams for ya.” 

“You live in a van?” 

“We live wherever we want.” 

Amanda sighed. “I was supposed to backpack around Europe. See the world. All I’ve seen for months is this.” She looked around and remembered Martin didn’t see what she could. “My room. My house. Sometimes the yard.” 

“Would you… someday maybe you could…” 

“Road trip?” Something twisted in her gut and she forced a smile. “I think we’ll get more dreams than reality. Did you hear that?” 

Martin looked over his shoulder. “Not sure. I gotta go. Gotta make sure the boys are safe.” 

“Ok.” Amanda didn’t know how to ask him to stay, and couldn’t ask him to leave the others. She shivered and squeezed his hand, memorising everything she could. 

“I’ll write you when I wake up. Stay here,” Martin suggested shyly, “it’s nice here. I hope I find you again.” 

“Me too.” 

Martin touched her cheek one last time before rolling over and out of the bed. The mattress moved beneath Amanda and she hurriedly sat up to watch him walk through her bedroom wall and disappear into the glow. She lay back in her bed, closed her eyes, curled her fist under her chin and let the deep dream pull her back down. 

*

Real sunlight woke Amanda in the end. She rolled across her bed into the space Martin had been in her dream and inhaled deeply. The faint scent of tobacco and crisp sun-dried laundry filled her nose and set her heart racing. It was a dream - but the smell of him remained in her bed. 

That opened up a whole world of dream possibilities if it ever happened again. 

A grin started in the warm fluttering of her chest and filled her entirely. She climbed out of bed and only meant to glance at her reflection in the dresser mirror, but what she saw made her stop in her tracks. 

Across her cheek was a shallow graze. 

“Please don’t be an attack. Please don’t be Martin’s.” Touching where the scrape appeared, Amanda found perfectly painless unbroken skin. “Shit.” 

Lifting her sleep top, Amanda gasped and quickly flung it off. A knife had cut cleanly down over her collarbone and toward her sternum. Bruises patterned her torso like paisley print and road rash left her forearms in particularly bad shape. She put her top back on and looked at her hands that were completely devoid of heart bond messages but concerningly rife with split knuckles. Her heart in her throat, Amanda searched desperately amongst the road rash for purple messages. 

Nothing. 

She grabbed one of a dozen markers she left lying around her room. _< what the hell happened??? r u ok???? that shoulder looks BAD>_

Three minutes and seven seconds later the writing faded. It was replaced by a simple smiley face made of two dots and upward curving line. Unfortunately it alleviated absolutely none of Amanda’s fears; she was pretty sure it was drawn in blood. 

_< what the actual FUCK is happening????>_


	4. Chapter 4

Martin coughed and spat blood. He ran his tongue over his lip and was relieved to find it wasn’t the cause of the mouth blood situation. “Boys?” A disorganised chorus of groans and shouts answered him. “Close enough. In the van, let’s go!” 

The Rowdies piled into the van and Martin stomped the gas down to the floor. He managed to scratch a shitty smile onto his hand using his own pouring blood and hoped it would reassure Amanda for a minute. 

“Hey Boss?” Cross shouted over the roaring engine. 

“Yeah?” 

“Manda wants me to tell you, and this is a direct quote, _I am not fucking reassured what the fuck is happening!_ ” 

“Got it. Anyone got a marker?” A disorganised chorus of not-yes answered him. “Yep. That tracks.” He stuck a finger in his bleeding knife wound and winced. Of course there wasn’t enough to finish a damn word but he tried anyway. _< sorr>_

_< NOT HELPING BUT I GUESS AT LEAST UR ALIVE FOR NOW???>_

Martin laughed and experienced immediate regret. “That’s a rib gone, folks! How’s all y’all’s ribs and pieces?” 

“Nine cracked bones, four bruised eyes, one dislocated-” Gripps was cut off by Vogel’s brief scream. “One formerly dislocated shoulder.” 

“And not one marker?” Martin retorted. “I reckon Amanda would just about grow wings to find me and clip me upside the head and Imma blame all y’all when she does.” 

“That was too close, Boss,” Cross said. “Lucky you woke up when you did or they mighta snuck up on us!” 

Martin stared at the road ahead without seeing a thing. “Amanda woke me up.” 

“Huh?” 

“I was dreamin’ of her but she was real - she was right here with me in the van - and she heard somethin’ that didn’t sound right. I ain’t hear shit.” Martin felt the looks being exchanged behind him. 

“Is it a sign?” Vogel asked. “Y’know, that she’s supposed to like, be here? She saved us, Boss.” 

Gripps nodded his agreement. “Can’t be a coincidence.” 

“Everything is connected,” Cross said. 

Martin kept driving. 

*

The boys eventually found a marker and took turns telling Amanda about the fight they’d woken up to. She stopped writing back in all capital letters after a while so Martin called it a win. It took a few hours for the buzz to leach out of him and he sighed, pulled the van over on the side of another empty highway and rested his head briefly on the steering wheel. He needed beer and sleep and another amazing dream of Amanda close enough to be in his arms wouldn’t go astray. Vogel presented him with the marker then ran off into the long grasses to chase shadows and re-enact his favourite hits from the fight. 

_< sorry about all that. had to move quick.>_

_< is ur shoulder ok?? it looks like… scabby already?>_

Martin pulled the torn collar of his shirt aside. _< yeah. should be gone in a day or two. hands are already fine.>_

_< how??>_

_< how what?>_

_< that cut was DEEP. like. needed stitches deep>_

_< we heal quick. sorry. about all of it. this is why we want to make sure to keep you safe.>_

_< SCREW SAFE I hav been sitting here panicking when my whole heart needs to no ur ok>_

_< Im ok. promise.>_

_< seattle>_

Martin’s heart lurched against his aching ribs. _< what?>_

_< I live in seattle. If u come n find me then Ill no ur ok>_

_< what if I bring this nightmare right to your door?>_

_< it can’t be worse than the nightmare Im already living>_

*

The road to Seattle wasn’t as clear as Martin had hoped. He tried to explain the whims of the universe that kept funnelling them down backroads and side jobs on the way to her, zigzagging them in every damn which way except straight to goddamn Seattle, but Amanda was too sick to care much. Martin saw the shadows of her attacks across his skin too damn often and every time it filled him with a fierce ache that something wasn’t _right_. She was too far, he was too slow, there wasn’t enough time to get where his heart needed to be. 

Blackwing hadn’t caught up with them again and Martin took it as a good sign - a universe sign - that they were on the right track. 

He didn’t dream of her again. 

-*-*-*- 

Time wasn’t real. Amanda lived in a haze of attacks, pain, medication, stunned stupor, and sleep. The only reason she opened her eyes at all was to check her hands and arms for messages, and not once did the boys let her down. Vogel loved to draw little scenes of adventures and animals for her, Gripps always told her how many cows they’d seen or how many miles they’d covered, Cross told her jokes that didn’t make any sense but didn’t have to in order to make her smile. Martin explained things all the time, or at least he tried to; explaining why they’d been delayed again (was it again? Had it been another week already?) and explaining what he could about their weird energy thing, and trying to explain the sound the van made when he was driving late at night on his way to her. 

She’d been almost lucid when Todd brought some weird new friend over to her place. It was weird to talk to someone outside her little bubble, especially someone who himself seemed a bit weird, but it was probably good practice for if - when - Martin and the others ever managed to show up. If she had more energy maybe she could be sad about waiting, or angry about it, but eating and writing on her limbs took up all the energy she could find most days. 

A day after Todd and his new friend came by - or was it two? - Amanda felt a shift in the air like a promised storm’s breeze cutting through thick air. Sadly there was no time to pause and analyse because of course her body interpreted it as a literal arctic breeze and her hands froze. The crushing rush of an attack squeezed the warmth from her in the blink of an eye. Her fingers turned blue and ice grew along her hands and her bones splintered and screamed from the freezing pressure. 

With a strangled cry Amanda stumbled toward the bathroom and the fucking mountain of drugs but her knees gave out and it was hard to breathe and she fell to the floor. She tried to reason that usually when she passed out, the hallucination would end. Usually. 

Somewhere really far away, glass shattered. 

Was that thunder or stomping boots on hardwood floors? 

At the edge of pain, at the edge of what Amanda’s busted brain could grasp, was… blue. Not the blue of ice that was going to kill her, but the blue of swirling clouds and moving lights and eyes behind glasses- 

_Fire and bats and Todd and fields and why is there always a fucking clown seriously wait who’s that asshole and who did he kill why am I blue and what the hell happened to my face please don’t let the lightning be real-_

Amanda took a deep breath and was surprised to find that her lungs worked. The attack was _gone_ and the only thing left in her was actual helpful oxygen. She opened her eyes in shock and found the impossible. 

Martin knelt over her, his eyes bright, a small smile playing across his mouth. “Hi.” 

Amanda grinned, laughed, and fainted. 

*

Waking up was like being hit by a truck. 

Well, almost. It hurt less - Amanda had hallucinated that more than a few times - but the rush and the shock was just the same. 

She sat up with a sharp gasp, looking for all the blue- but it was just a dream. Maybe even a hallucination, but imagining that the pain had somehow stopped was a whole new experience. With a pained grumble, Amanda lurched to her hands and knees, but it wasn’t until she actually got to her feet that she registered a lot _less_ pain than usual. 

Maybe the new drugs were starting to work. 

Dreamily Amanda picked up a pen and started the familiar message on her hand: _< Im ok. that one was buck ass wild>_

_< yeah? see anythin cool?>_

Amanda smiled. _< dreamed of blue. like ur eyes I guess>_

_< looked like a cool dream.>_

_< huh?>_

_< not to be creepy or anythin but look out your window.>_

Amanda rushed to her window - _< my broken window? wtf>_ \- and looked outside. 

A black, beat up, graffitied to hell and back van was parked across the street. 

“The Oh No Mobile,” Amanda whispered. _< IS THAT UR SHITTY VAN>_

_< hey. this van is iconic.>_

Amanda flew out her front door before she could think. Unfortunately she started thinking - some might say, overthinking - the second her feet hit the garden path. She froze, staring at the idling, rumbling van, its revs matching her racing heart. 

“What do I do now?” Amanda asked the cold wind. 

The van door slid open. 

It broke the spell and Amanda kept running, making it to within two feet of the van’s open door before she paused again. The sound of excited laughter pulled at her and she took a deep breath before climbing inside. 

“It’s you,” she said, somewhat uselessly, looking at three very expectant faces that were strange and familiar all at once. She turned to look at the driver’s seat and saw the back of someone’s head. 

“I’m Martin,” he said gruffly without turning around. “That’s Gripps, and Vogel, and that one right there, he’s Cross.” 

“I’m Cross!” 

Amanda grinned. “I know. I know you.” 

“Boss, you gonna give us the time of day back here?” Gripps asked, shooting a knowing look at the back of Martin’s head. 

“I’m scared, too,” Amanda told him. 

Martin snorted and climbed out of the van. Amanda looked at Cross, Gripps and Vogel, knowing the hurt showed on her face. 

“He ain’t gonna run far,” Cross said, “but maybe you should go catch ‘im, just in case.” 

Amanda scrabbled her way out to follow where Martin went. Cross was right; he’d gone exactly two feet away and stopped in the middle of the road, still with his back to the van. A lit cigarette hung from his mouth and he didn’t flinch when he heard her coming up behind him. 

“That wasn’t a dream, was it?” Amanda asked. “You were there. Somehow. You broke my window.” 

“Sorry.” 

Amanda laughed. “Worth it, so freakin’ worth it. You- the zappy thing! You sucked the energy right out of me.” 

“Told ya. It’s that weird thing we do.” 

“It’s so cool.” Amanda stared at the back of him, trying to fathom that he was actually there, and _real_ , and more than a bit terrified. “I’d’ve loved you even if you couldn’t eat my attacks.” 

Martin held his breath. “What?” 

“That’s soulmates, right? Heart bonds, or whatever? But you’re scared that I’d only keep you around to help me…” Amanda sensed her barb had hit the mark. “Who’s to say you wouldn’t get sick of me being sick and in pain all the time?” 

Martin turned in an instant, his bright eyes fixed on her. “Never.” 

“Good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Road trip?” 

Martin grinned. “Road trip.” Amanda barrelled into him and he held her tight, lifting her up in his arms and burying his face in her shoulder. “You’re real.” 

“ _You’re_ real!” Amanda laughed as he set her down but she couldn’t bring herself to let him go. Her hands stayed on his shoulders and itched to circle around his neck… but it wasn’t until she realised Martin’s hands were on her waist that she found the nerve to move. “You’re _real_ ,” she said again, quieter this time, and her hands went around his neck and somehow her fingertips found their way to the buzzed hair on the back of his head. 

“You really- you want-” 

“More than anything- but do you-” 

“More than anything. I promise.” Martin grinned. “You need to pack anythin’?” 

“Like, two things, three, max. Do you wanna come in, or something?” 

“Got any lemonade?” 

Amanda laughed. “Nope, but there’s some vodka in the kitchen. Come on.” She dragged him inside and pointed him at the kitchen before running back to her room to shove anything clean into a bag. She was halfway through changing her outfit and was scrambling through her mess in just jeans and a bra when she was aware of _silence_ behind her. Slowly, she turned, and was just in time to catch a glimpse of Martin fleeing the scene. “Hey!” 

Martin walked backwards to the doorway and wouldn’t turn around. “I just wanted to check you were ok.” 

“I’m fine. More than fine. I’m about to get out of here- I’m about to get out of here _with you_.” Amanda pulled a shirt on and approached him slowly. She reached for his arm, solid and real beneath her hand, and pulled him around to face her. 

“I’m glad it’s you. Whatever the universe wanted to tie me to… I’m glad it’s you.” 

Amanda grinned and gripped his vest in both hands. “Same.” She kissed him carefully, still afraid deep down that everything was a heartbeat away from disappearing. His beard and lips were soft against her and his hands were warm on her back and when she opened her eyes, he was still there. 

She kissed him again, just to make sure. 

“Still here, darlin’,” Martin said softly. He was close enough that his lips practically touched hers as he spoke. 

“Get me outta here?” 

“Anythin’ for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> more thanks to intricatecakes for supportive screaming <3 i'm on [tumblr](https://everythingremainsconnected.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hi, and if there's anything i should tag for this that i haven't, lemme know


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